


you got a velvet mouth

by thundersquall



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Finger Sucking, Get Well Soon Tazer, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mouth Kink, Oral Fixation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 10:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8798068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thundersquall/pseuds/thundersquall
Summary: What Jonny's noticed, from the very first night they were in a hotel room together for their first away game, is the way Patrick chews and sucks on his fingertips when he's in bed, or rubs his fingers over his lips when he's talking to Jonny.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was born when [fannishtalk](fannishtalk.tumblr.com) said, "i had a thought about how kaner sucks at everything near his mouth, glove, stick, whatever - what if as a rookie the only way he could relax was by sucking on stuff, so tazer took one for the team and let him suck on his fingers and then later on other things just to calm him down on road trips." and i immediately said, let me write this for the [get well soon tazer mini-fest](http://allthebros.tumblr.com/post/154058964458/it-looks-like-our-captain-will-be-out-for-another)! of course whatever i wrote turned out nothing like the prompt, but eh. /hands
> 
> so bless you, fannishtalk, for the awesome prompt :) and thank you [MajaLi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MajaLi/pseuds/MajaLi) for reading this over for me!
> 
> title from underworld's 'born slippy'.

It's probably the first thing Jonny notices about Patrick as a roommate. Not the way he picks his clothes up - even Jonny's - and hangs them neatly in hotel closets; not the way he hogs the bathroom; not even how he almost always stays up later than Jonny, skyping his sisters or watching TV and generally keeping Jonny awake.

No, what Jonny's noticed, from the very first night they were in a hotel room together for their first away game, is the way Patrick chews and sucks on his fingertips when he's in bed, or rubs his fingers over his lips when he's talking to Jonny.

Jonny doesn't think much of it at first - the temperature's dropped abruptly in the past week, and he'd overheard Patrick say something to Sharpy about his lips getting chapped in the cold. But then Patrick keeps on doing it, even at practice and on the bench - and Jonny's not looking, he's _not_ , but it's hard to miss when Patrick's constantly chewing on his mouthguard like some barbarian. And then when they're in Nashville with the clock ticking down on a 2-5 loss, Jonny sees Patrick mouthing at his glove _and_ his mouthguard at the same time, one at either corner of his mouth.

He knocks into Patrick with his shoulder. "Stop it, that's gross," he hisses.

Patrick blinks up at him, mouth still listlessly working. His eyes are ridiculously blue, Jonny thinks - and then he locks that shit down fast, because there's still eight minutes left to play and Patrick's his _teammate_ , for fuck's sake. His gross, glove-eating teammate.

"Your glove is fucking filthy and you're chewing on it," Jonny says.

Patrick looks blankly at him, turns away to stare at the game, and carries on sucking at his mouthguard and gloved hand.

Jonny swallows and looks away as well, and most resolutely does not think about the way Patrick's mouth looked, soft and pink and gleaming wet in the harsh lights of the arena.

\---

The problem is that it keeps happening.

Now that Jonny's actually aware of how much Patrick sucks on things, he sees it _all the time_. His brain practically starts keeping up a running catalogue of all the ways Patrick does it. Patrick amps it up whenever he's particularly anxious or nervous, like during tight games where he begins compulsively licking his lips and fingers; or when he's just deep in thought, like when they're out eating with the guys and he starts thinking about something with his spoon stuck in his mouth and slowly sucking over the bowl of it; or when he's upset, like the times he locks himself in the hotel bathroom with his phone to talk to his family, and comes out with his eyes red-rimmed and his lower lip swollen and bruised from where he's been chewing on it.

"Are you - okay?" Jonny asks, after seeing this happen several times; the first few times he'd ignored it and pretended he didn't see Patrick's teary eyes, as dictated by the bro code, but he's getting genuinely concerned that something bad's going on with Patrick, and - he's just been named as an alternate, and he wants to live up to that.

"Yeah," Patrick replies. "Just - I miss my sisters, you know?" He sniffles once, and then gets into bed like nothing's happened, except that he pulls the covers up to his chin and starts sucking on a corner of the sheet.

Jonny can't help but stare; he doesn't _want_ to, but he just can't seem to tear his eyes away, and Patrick's looking kind of spaced out, it's not as if he'd take notice of Jonny's sudden interest in his mouth. And then he lets the fabric slip out of his mouth so he can lick his lips, run his tongue across the pink lushness of it in a slow left-to-right motion, and over the inside of his cheek, so it bulges like he's got something thick in his mouth. It's fucking _mesmerising_.

When Patrick follows his tongue with his hand, running his fingers over his mouth in that distracted, unthinking way of his, all Jonny can think of is Patrick sliding his fingers over his cock like that, licking over the rounded swollen head, rubbing it over his mouth.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Damn Patrick and his mouth, really.

\---

So, it's absolutely not Jonny's fault that thoughts of Patrick's mouth occupy his mind for the next few weeks, and most definitely not his fault that he's maybe jerked it to those thoughts. A _lot_. And he is categorically not at fault when they're in Los Angeles and they're fucking blown out 9-2 and Patrick climbs into bed looking the way he does, blue eyes droopy with exhaustion, sucking on the knuckle of his thumb, and all Jonny can see is the way his mouth seals tight round it, wet and pink and utterly lovely.

His cock's already at half-mast in his briefs when he blurts out, "You - why'd you keep doing that?"

Patrick glances over at him. "Doing what?" He drops his hand from his mouth as he speaks, and Jonny's never regretted saying anything more in his life.

"You know," Jonny says, gesturing vaguely, desperately thinking of something to say, anything at all. "You - I told you to stop chewing on things, it's fucking filthy, you don't know what you've touched - "

Patrick looks down at his hand, at where there's a shiny patch of spit on his thumb. "Oh," he says, and then he shrugs, like it's no big deal, like it hasn't been the source of Jonny's masturbation fantasies for weeks. "I don't know. Habit, I guess."

He slides under his sheets, but instead of turning his back to Jonny like he usually does, he stares at him. "I used to chew on things, when I was a kid. When I was, you know, nervous. Guess I never got out of the habit."

 _It's not just your chewing,_ Jonny wants to say. _It's your sucking and licking and how you drag your lips over whatever's in your mouth all slow and sweet, it's your perfect fucking mouth._

He doesn't say anything. He finds himself standing up and going over to Patrick, as if his body's not even under his own control anymore; and with Patrick staring up at him, blue eyes round and wide and bewildered, he reaches down and swipes his thumb slowly, deliberately, over Patrick's bottom lip.

Patrick's eyes widen, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't stop him. Just sits on the bed with his chest lifting and deflating in this hurried, sped-up rhythm, and lets Jonny push the very tip of his thumb into his mouth, pressing on his soft, yielding tongue.

Jonny finds himself breathing hard, too; every nerve is wired, ready to spring back and bolt if Patrick tells him to stop. But Patrick doesn't. He tilts his head back every so slightly, pushing his chin into Jonny's palm so Jonny can cup it, and his long lashes drop down over his eyes, like he's falling asleep.

Jonny has no idea how long he stands there, holding his thumb tip just inside Patrick's mouth; but when the seconds stretch into minutes and Patrick makes no move, he says, "You can, if you need it." His voice is husky and low; he barely recognises it himself.

An interminable age later, Patrick lets his mouth slip open so Jonny can push his thumb all the way in.

Jonny lets out a long, shivery breath, and climbs into the bed beside Patrick; it takes some maneuvering, but he manages to get himself spooned up behind Patrick, with his nose tucked in Patrick's neck, and his thumb still in his mouth.

He slides his index and middle fingers in next; Patrick's mouth is so lax and yielding, letting Jonny in easily. His fingers rest on Patrick's tongue, and it doesn't take him long, this time, to begin sucking like an infant needing succour. Except Jonny can feel the tight, warm suction of his mouth, the way his tongue slides between his fingers and licks, and he's totally hard now, no ifs and buts about it, just from fingering Patrick's mouth like this. 

He's not even doing anything, but Patrick - wriggles backwards, a little, and pushes his hips back into Jonny's groin, so his ass presses right up against Jonny's cock, swollen and hot in his briefs.

"Pat," Jonny says; and then he stops, because honestly, he's not sure what to say.

Patrick makes a contented little humming sound around his fingers, and Jonny can _feel_ his cock twitching against Patrick's sweet, rounded ass. Shit. There's only so much a nineteen-year-old can take, alternate captain or no, and Jonny just - he has to rock his hips forward, slowly at first, and then picking up speed when the wet suction on his fingers increases in pressure, in tandem with Jonny grinding his cock into the tight muscle of Patrick's ass.

They don't talk at first, just rocking back and forth against each other, but then Jonny's cock slips neatly in between Patrick's cheeks, and Patrick squeezes slightly, just enough for Jonny to feel it even through the fabric they're wearing; Jonny gasps before he can hold the sound in.

"Fuck," he mutters, when Patrick does it again. "Patrick, I - fuck, can I?"

Patrick makes the same pleased sound again, and wriggles back even further.

The air in their hotel room feels thick and hot; it makes Jonny feel like his movements are slowed down, sluggish, when he reaches down to slip Patrick's boxers down over his hips, and then tugs his own cock out from the slit in his briefs. The head's swollen and glistening wet when he slides his foreskin down over it, and it makes everything a little slicker and easier when he glides it along the cleft of Patrick's ass.

Patrick's breathing hard in the silence of their room, and he's still sucking on Jonny's fingers like it's a lifeline. He exhales when Jonny shifts to push his cock in between his cheeks, and Jonny can feel the rush of hot air over his fingers and hand. It makes goosebumps rise on his skin, even with how overheated he feels.

He leans his forehead against Patrick's messy curls and presses his nose into the nape of his neck, breathing in deep lungfuls of his scent, like the soap he'd used and something else entirely Patrick, sweet and musky. He's fucking his cock slowly between his cheeks, relishing the slightly too-much edge of the friction, when Patrick drops a hand between his legs and begins to jerk himself off. Jonny can't see anything from where he is, just the motions of Patrick's arm working and the muscles on his shoulders bunching as he moves, but - 

"I need to see," he says, and pushes himself up on one elbow so he can look over Patrick's shoulder, still grinding restlessly against him. "Pat, I - "

"Mm-hmm," Patrick mumbles around Jonny's fingers, and twists his body so he's exposed to Jonny's hungry eyes.

He's seen Patrick naked before, of course - but he's never seen Patrick _hard_ , his dick pushing up from his fist like that, blood-red and leaking over the tight tunnel of his fingers, his abs flexing as he fucks his fist. He has to press a moan into Patrick's neck, because - fuck, that's stupidly hot, and Patrick's barely even doing anything much. It makes his rhythm stutter a little, and on his next push forward the head of his cock snags on the rim of Patrick's hole.

Patrick moans, loud and breathy, and Jonny's fingers nearly slip out of his open mouth before they catch on his lower lip. Jonny runs his fingertips over it, and Patrick lets his tongue slide out to lick over them. And this time, Jonny can see it, the flick of his pink tongue over the hockey calluses on his fingers; and he's painfully, unbearably hard, his cock nudging its way into the tight little furl of Patrick's hole, thinking of the way Patrick would look if he rolls him over right now, shoves his dick into his soft willing mouth, or into his ass.

"Patrick," he groans - he can't do it, he _can't_ , even though every nerve in his body is lit up, screaming at him to put Patrick on his stomach and just _take_. 

Patrick tilts his head back so he can look at Jonny, and his blue eyes are wide, hazy, darkened with pleasure. His lips are swollen and red from the pressure of Jonny's fingers on them. He's still jerking himself off, movements slow and deliberate like he's trying to stop himself from coming too fast. There's a pearly drop of precome welling up on his cock as Jonny watches.

"Finger me," Patrick gasps; even as he says it, his hole flexes against Jonny's cock and loosens up a little, and it slips inside him, just the tiniest bit. It's all Jonny can do to grip Patrick's hip and groan against the slope of his shoulder, because - fuck, he wants. He wants to hold Patrick down, force him open on his cock; he wants Patrick to come like that, shaking and spitted on his dick, and for a moment the fantasy is so vivid, so visceral in his mind that he hitches his hips forward and sinks another half inch inside Patrick.

"Oh my - _fuck_ ," Patrick says, his breathing coming fast in short, sharp puffs. "Fuck, Jonny, please - finger me, I need it, I'm so close - "

Jonny's completely helpless in the face of Patrick begging for him like this, in a way he never is outside of - whatever this is. He kisses the tendon in Patrick's neck, corded with strain, and whispers, "Yeah, okay - I've got you, sweetheart." 

The endearment slips out easily, as natural as rain from the sky, and for a moment he freezes, thinking he's fucked everything up; but all Patrick does is turn his head aside, giving Jonny more space to work on his neck.

Jonny curls his free arm under Patrick's neck and wraps it round his chest to hold him steady, trails the fingers of his other hand, still wet from Patrick's mouth, down over Patrick's taut body, until they reach the curve of his ass and part his cheeks. He can't help but rub his cock over Patrick's hole for a few seconds, watching it quiver as Patrick jerks in his arms and turns his head blindly to mouth at Jonny's bicep.

Jonny sinks a finger into Patrick at the same time he curls his other hand up to palm Patrick's cheek and push his fingers into his mouth; Patrick lets out a sound that goes straight to Jonny's dick, a little punched-out sob, and his entire body ripples.

"One more," he begs, garbled around three of Jonny's fingers, speeding up on his cock. "Jonny, more - I'm gonna - "

Jonny forces another finger into him; it's a tight fit, a little too dry, but Patrick moans and shoves himself back on them like he's loving it. It's so fucking hot Jonny has to push his cock against Patrick's cheek, just to ease the pressure. He barely has to do anything; Patrick's arching himself, rolling his ass into Jonny's hand, fucking himself on his fingers, but then Jonny angles his fingers upwards and crooks them, and that does it. Patrick cries out as he comes, his hole spasming, and spurts all the way up to Jonny's wrist, still working his fingers in and out of Patrick's mouth.

"Jesus," Jonny says, stunned and so turned on he thinks he's going to explode if he doesn't get to come soon. But he waits politely for Patrick's breathing to smooth out into something less staccato before he tries to pull his fingers out of Patrick's mouth and ass.

Patrick shakes his head. "No," he says.

Jonny groans. "Patrick, I'm sorry, but I really need to - "

"Come on me," Patrick says. "Like this." 

And that is just - _fuck_.

"Dirty fucking pool," Jonny says, but he rolls them over so Patrick's on his stomach, fingers still stuffed in his mouth and ass, Jonny's body enfolding him. Jonny's still lean, isn't quite old enough yet to pile on enough muscle, but Patrick feels so much smaller tucked under him.

"Like this?" Jonny asks, kneeing Patrick's legs together and slipping his cock into the soft space between Patrick's thighs.

Patrick makes an appreciative little 'mm' sound, eyelashes fluttering when Jonny begins to rut against him like that, sucking languidly on his fingers, precome slicking the way. Jonny's still got two fingers of his other hand hooked in Patrick's hole, so he uses it to pull Patrick open a little, sees the way the muscle gives and stretches.

"Wow," he breathes. "God, I want to fuck you so bad." And he's thinking of it now, of sliding his cock into that sweet tight hole, of feeling Patrick contract around him when he's getting the breath fucked out of him; and then Patrick tightens his thighs around Jonny's cock and his orgasm hits him like a freight train.

He has just enough presence of mind to pull his cock out from between Patrick's legs so he can press his cock right up against Patrick's hole, stretched open by his fingers, and come right on him.

"Oh my god," he says weakly, watching his come leak down the cleft of Patrick's ass and drip into his hole. He fingers it out of Patrick gently, stares at it gleaming on his skin, and swipes up more of it so he can push it inside Patrick.

Patrick lets him do it, just lies there and stares at Jonny, blinking sleepily. His curls are matted with sweat and plastered to his forehead and neck, his lips swollen and used and reddened, and he's filthy with come. He's the hottest thing Jonny's ever laid eyes on.

Then Patrick grins, lets Jonny's fingers slide out of his mouth, and lifts a fist. "Good job," he says throatily. "I came like a fuckin' rocket."

Jonny stares at his raised fist.

"Bump me, bro," Patrick demands, and - jesus christ, Jonny thinks unhappily, he still thinks Patrick's hot. He bumps his fist against Patrick's anyway, and rolls his eyes for good measure.

"You did too, didn't you?" Patrick asks. He licks his lips, in that same maddening slow swipe from left to right, corner to corner, and drops his eyes to Jonny's dick, lying soft between his legs.

Jonny can't stop staring. "Yeah. I did."

Patrick smiles, smug and self-satisfied and pleased.


End file.
